


Cold Blooded

by LucreziaDormentaire



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Crimes & Criminals, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucreziaDormentaire/pseuds/LucreziaDormentaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akaashi is a bartender at a bad neighborhood, and Bokuto is….<br/>Well, Bokuto is the definition of <i>bad</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Blooded

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually supposed to be a Tsukkiyama fic, but it fits bokuakaa more?? please forgive me this is my first time writing about them and i might not have their characterizations right.
> 
>  
> 
> there are few warning in this fic that i choose not to spoil for the sake of the ride :D but nothing triggering, really. this is a pretty tame fic.  
> oh, but, let me warn you that i can't write for shit. I'm sorry.

_“If music be the food of love, play on,_

_Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,_

_The appetite may sicken, and so die.”_

_― William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night._

“…Is that so.”

The room is filled with wooden crates with almost no space to walk. The smell of alcohol lingers in the air, strong enough to intoxicate someone with low tolerance. At the end of the room, barrels made of wooden staves are stacked neatly, giving off an old-fashioned impression to the place. 

Two males stand just right in front of the storage door; one’s younger than the other.

“Well, we could always use a helping hand around here, so I’m not against you or anything.” The older guy says, tapping on his chin. He observes the boy before him, looking somewhat uncertain at first. “But just, don’t go make a ruckus down at the bar, alright? I’m sorry I have to say this but – bring your problem elsewhere.”

The boy nods his head, linking his fingers together in front of him. “Of course. I wouldn’t even dream of it, Suga-san.”

“Good,” Sugawara breathes out in relief, placing his hands on his hips. “Then you’re hired!”

* * *

 

 

 

The first day of his work as a bartender has been slow – in contrast to what his manager had told him. He’s been wiping the bar clean for hours to the point where can practically see his own reflection on the glossy wood surface. Most of the patrons prefer to sit on their own table separately, leaving the bar empty. Not that he’s going to complain about it or anything.

Instead, he likes it better this way, he supposed. He likes the quiet atmosphere, with the occasional hum of music coming out from the old jukebox. He doesn’t even know why the manager insisted on keeping that junk, but it adds to the old-school ambiance, he thinks.

 He tries busying himself with polishing up the wine glass, an attempt to keep himself from falling asleep. He assumes it won’t get busier until the day gets darker, so he exits through the back door, down the storage to check on the drinks.

As he slowly makes his way around the cabinets, his thought wanders to what his manager had told him.

 

“ _Are you sure you want to work here? This part of the city is as bad as it can get. I’m pretty sure you’ve heard the rumors spreading around.”_

_“I am aware of that,”_

_“I’m not trying to scare you or anything, but, this bar is… how do I say it.” Sugawara pauses, raking his hand through his light, gray hair. “This is where the crooks usually hang out.”_

 

Akaashi Keiji lives around here; of course he knows just how _bad_ it can get. He also knows about the place being the outlaws’ nest. As long as they don’t do anything that could jeopardize his life, he couldn’t care less. Besides, the manager is _hella_ terrifying that nobody even dares to start a fight in the bar – from what he heard through the gossips. Acknowledging that puts him at ease.

After making sure all the drinks are in order, he washes his hand and walks back to the bar. True enough, after few hours of waiting idly, the bell on the door clatters, signaling incoming patrons. Akaashi peeks at the huge wood clock just above the door, the hour hand points at six and a half. As more customers slowly fill the bar, he’s thankful Sugawara finally emerges from his office, looking sharp and organized.

“I’m sorry I took so long.” Sugawara whispers at him, his hands busy with a drink. “The guy that was supposed to be working with you – um, what’s his name again? Konoha?” He waits for a respond from Akaashi. The boy shrugs. “Yeah, well, he called me and quitted.”

“Oh.” Akaashi brings his attention back to the orders. “That’s… a surprise.” He remarks. But not really. He understands if the guy would want to quit, honestly. Working in such a hostile environments would probably drive a guy or two mad.

“I’m really sorry about this, Akaashi.” Sugawara sighs. “I’ll find the replacement quickly, so you don’t have to work alone on weekdays anymore. Oh, but we have Hinata and Kageyama on weekends, no need to worry.”

“I’m not worried.” Akaashi simply says. He pushes a glass of bright-colored liquid to the scary-looking man in front of him, offering him a tiny smile. “Your drink.” Moving on, he quickly works on the next order, hands moving almost naturally. Akaashi likes making his way with drinks and wines, and that’s why, even when they’re shorthanded at the moment, he doesn’t feel overwhelmed. Maybe, a little, with the occasional glare the patrons are giving him.

Chatters gradually fill the room, muffling the jukebox completely. The place reeks of smoke, and Akaashi is sure the smell would probably stick in his hair for days to come.

At the corner of his eyes, Sugawara is seen making casual banters with intimidating-looking guys he assumed are part of a yakuza group. Sugawara stands out too much in that group. He looks like a pristine white sheep surrounded by a group of filthy, hungry wolves. Akaashi unconsciously purses his lips. It takes him a while to realize the sound of the bell and a newcomer, sitting right in front of him.

“Oh? What’s this? Are you new?”

Akaashi looks up immediately and blinks away his wandering thought. There, before him, is a man probably older than him, but the childlike smile on his face and his _oh-so-bright_ golden eyes imply otherwise. He’s dressed formally, not sure if he’s just an unlucky office worker who stumbles his way here on accident, or a debt collector. Could be both. The weird hair catches Akaashi’s attention the most though, and he tries – not too subtly – to not stare so much.

“Haven’t seen you around here before!” The man comments, his voice a little too loud to Akaashi’s liking.

“Yes, I’m… new.” He answers simply. “Can I get you something?”

Instead of replying, the man puts his hands on the bar and leans closer to Akaashi’s personal space – much to the boy’s dismay.

“Uh, e—excuse me?”

“Keiji,” the man says, “That’s a nice name.” He grins, and as if on instinct, Akaashi backs away defensively. The corner of his mouth is pulled into a frown, and dislike is written clearly on his face.

Noticing this, the man lifts his hands in an apologetic manner. “Whoa, there, sorry, I was just reading your nametag?” He does look like he’s genuinely confused, so Akaashi relaxes his shoulders. He glances at Sugawara’s direction; a little thankful that his manager is too occupied with the yakuza dudes.

Right. Nametag. He clearly has forgotten about that. “My apologies. I just started to work here and…”

“These guys scare you?” The man chimes in, leaning more against the bar.

Akaashi’s eyebrow twitches. “No, not really, I’m just… overwhelmed.”

“Tough crowds, huh?” The man pipes. “Good luck though! It must be hard for someone as pretty as you to be working in a place like this!”

“What?” Akaashi coughs into his hand, embarrassment creeping on his back. “Excuse me?”

His customer grins widely. “You heard me,” Yes, Akaashi hears him perfectly fine. He’s just not expecting to be flirted with on his first day of work. And clearly not from someone so obnoxiously loud it hurts just to stand near him.

Akaashi opens his mouth to retort, but he hears someone calling for him, asking for a refill. He nods at the man by his left before turning back to the stranger that is slowly getting on his nerves. “Can I get you something, or are you just going to sit there all night, blabbering senseless stuff?” He asks quietly, careful not to let Sugawara hear him.

“Ouch,” the man grimaces, pressing his hand to his chest as if he was offended. “Just get me something non-alcoholic.”

Akaashi lifts an eyebrow. “Coke?”

“Coke is fine,” The man sings, smiling at him. Akaashi nods slightly before leaving the man to take another order.

 

 ---

 

“Hey, Keiji! Hey, hey, hey!”

Akaashi uncaps another bottle of coke and quietly swears on his luck. “Yes, coming,” He says from between gritted teeth.

The night is getting late and the bar is about to close – so why the hell is this guy still doing here?

“That’s more like it!” He says excitedly as Akaashi pours the coke into the glass. And why the _fuck_ does he still has that many energy to actually shout in the dead of the night?

“That’s a lot of sugar you’re consuming.” Akaashi comments, trying to fight his fatigue away and keep his expression neutral. The day itself isn’t exactly tiring – but he just _has_ to stumble upon a really annoying customer on his first day. _Good job, Keiji_.

“That’s alright, I can handle it! No need to worry!” The guy says after chugging down his drink.

“I’m really not worried.”

“So cold, Keiji!” Akaashi flinches every time he hears his name coming out of the man’s lips. It feels so weird and uncomfortable, but not entirely unpleasant. And It’s not like he could ask the guy to stop… it’ll just be downright… rude.

So, while waiting for the guy to finally leave, he wipes some glasses clean. The guy keeps on humming a ridiculous anime song he’d heard a few times on TV, until buzzing sound breaks of the silence between them.

“Oops, that’s mine.” The man says, fetching his phone from his pocket. Akaashi rolls his eyes in disinterest. Oddly enough, the guy only stares at the bright screen of his phone instead of picking it up, and honestly, the ringtone gradually ticks Akaashi off.

“Ah. That’s enough for the day I think.” He slips off of the bar stool and fishes out his wallet. There is a change in his tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by Akaashi. He looks up and meets the stranger’s eyes, now deep and sharp, sending shivers down his spine. _What’s up with him?_

The man puts a large sum of cash on the table, along with a piece of paper. Akaashi eyed the cash incredulously. Isn’t it a little bit too much for a few bottles of coke?

“I’m sorry, let me just—“

As if ignoring him completely, the guy pulls out his pen and begins writing something down on the paper. Akaashi pauses for a while; his curiosity gets the best of him.

“Okay! Here!” The man exclaims loudly, startling the dark-haired boy. He pushes the paper into Akaashi’s hands, the tip of his ears burning red.

“Wh – what?” A chain of numbers is written down on the paper messily. “Phone number?” Akaashi voices out his thought.

“C – call me, alright?” The man stutters as he straightens up his coat, avoiding eye contact with the bartender. “I’m not joking when I said you’re pretty, you know!”

Akaashi chokes on air, his lungs suddenly feel heavy. He thinks the man’s humiliation must be contagious because he can feel his cheeks gradually becoming warmer. “Tha—that’s—“ Is this even real? It’s just his first day working as a bartender, he had not expected for someone to flirt with him straight away. And a guy, at that. _Wow, this guy must be pretty simple minded._

Akaashi questions his luck.

“By the way,” The man turns around to face Akaashi before he reaches the exit. “The name’s Bokuto Koutaro.” He beams—cheeks still rosy—and brushes his nose bashfully. He retreats outside straight away, grinning from ear to ear; unaware of the fact that right at the exact moment, Akaashi’s world falls apart.

He still questions his luck.

* * *

 

 

“It’s him. I know it’s him.”

Sugawara looks at him worriedly. “If you’re sure then, alright, I’m not going to stop you. Just…” He shifts his weight from side to side. “Don’t forget about your promise alright?”

“Don’t worry.” Akaashi stares at his reflection on the wine bottle. “I won’t do anything reckless, Suga-san.”

 

* * *

 

 

Akaashi is expecting Bokuto’s arrival the next day. Apparently he’s been a regular from way back, and is on a good term with Konoha (Who just quitted recently).

He comes by the same time as he did yesterday, seven o’clock sharp.

“You didn’t call,” The first thing he does once he’s seated in front of the bartender is to whine pathetically. Akaashi sighs.

“I’m sorry, it didn’t slip my mind at all,” Akaashi answers half-heartedly as he pours Bokuto’s coke into his glass.

“That’s cruel,” He moans, “And after all those embarrassing confession I said,” He burries his face into his arms, trying to hide his growing shame.

Akaashi narrows his eyes. _You call that a confession?_ _Scratch that, he barely even knows me._ He watches his newly found friend in disbelief before fetching a drink for another patron. Somehow Bokuto stays hidden within his arms longer than Akaashi has anticipated and his drink is left untouched. At first, Akaashi tries to ignore it, but it gradually annoys him too, especially when it starts to ruin his concentration.

Why is it ruining his concentration, again?

“Bo _… Bokuto-san_ ,” Akaashi says tentatively, wiping the sweat away from his forehead. No answer. His jaws tighten in irritation. That’s his name, isn’t it?

“Bokuto-san.” He tries more sternly this time, nudging the man’s shoulder lightly. There’s still no answer from the guy, but he can see the guy flinches slightly. That’s a better reaction than nothing at all, he supposed.

“Bo—“

“Yo, kid, are you new?” An unfamiliar voice greets him, the source coming from a middle-aged man sitting one stool away from Bokuto. Akaashi forces a small smile and walks closer to the guy.

“Yes, I am.” He answers politely. His eyes fly to the empty glass in front of the man. “Would you like me to get you anything else?”

“Ye, sure kiddo.” He nods his head. “Get me somethin’ strong, will ya’,”

“Alright,” Akaashi bows subtly and smiles to himself. He turns around and tiptoes to reach the top shelf, retrieving a bottle of alcoholic beverage. Occasionally, he peeks at Bokuto’s direction, stealing short glances here and there. He’s no longer stoop over the bar now, but instead is looking down at his coke with a dejected expression on his face.

His second day runs pretty smoothly, if he says so himself. He’s (a little) proud of himself, and he receives a few nice praises from his customers. Maybe those delinquents aren’t that bad after all.

Just like the previous day, Bokuto stays later than most of the patrons, only this time he was quiet the entire evening.

After finishing polishing the bar, Akaashi stands before of Bokuto (who is still on his first glass of coke) and crosses his arms in front of him.

“We’re closing now.” He says.

Bokuto slouches against the table surface.

Akaashi lets out a tired sigh. “Bokuto-san, look, I honestly don’t know what you’re so mad at about, but if you don’t talk, then I will never know.”

Bokuto actually lifts his face to look at Akaashi.

“So…?”

“I… I don’t know either.”

Akaashi shoots him a _look_.

“Geh! Don’t look at me like that!” Bokuto peels himself away from the bar and grabs the edge of his stool. “It just that you’re really pretty! And when you smiled I just—gwah!” He moves his hands wildly; in motions that even Akaashi cannot comprehend.

Pressing his palm to his face, Akaashi exhales loudly. “Are you being serious now,”

“Yes! Dead serious!” Bokuto nods his head in a solemnly, his brows pulled together.

“Why do I even bother…”

“Have we ever met before, Keiji?” Bokuto asks so suddenly, his expression hardens. The question catches Akaashi off-guard.

“No. I’d remember if I ever met someone as insufferable as you, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi answers coldly with a straight face.

Bokuto whimpers softly, his lips pulled into a frown. “That’s horrible, Keiji…” He puts a hand to his chest with a pained look on his face. “But… I’d remember too if I were to meet someone as stunning as you, though,” Bokuto ends his speech with a big smile plastered on his face. A smile that’s so sincere it does something weird to Akaashi’s stomach.

Or maybe it’s just the Mexican foods he ate for lunch.

In any case, foods or not, Akaashi is pretty sure his face is glowing red by now. Bokuto’s snickering tells him just so.

“Look – stop that.”

“Stop what?” Bokuto cocks his head to the side in a similar manner as an owl, _and if that’s not adorable Akaashi doesn’t know what is._

“Stop saying all those weird stuff about me.”

“It’s not weird.”

“It is.” Akaashi presses on. “I’m a guy, I don’t like being told… pretty, and… the like.”

Bokuto blinks owlishly. “You got a point.”

Akaashi hears a forced cough coming from the back door, and he knows immediately it was Sugawara’s. He looks at the clock and back to Bokuto. “Listen, Bokuto-san. How about I’ll text you my number if you promise you’ll come back here every day?” He proposes bashfully.

“For real?!” Bokuto jumps from where he was seated excitedly. Akaashi has to take a step back, wary of the impact.

“It’s just a number,” He murmurs quietly. “I don’t know what you’re so excited about.”

“Exactly. It’s _your_ number.” Bokuto replies simply. “And I want to get to know you better!”

Akaashi stares right at him, the look on his face unreadable. “Even though you’d ended up regretting it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind, just make sure you’ll come here tomorrow and order a lot.”

 

As Bokuto leaves, he stands quietly behind the bar, eyes glued to the door whereas his thoughts are scrambling here and there. There’s a familiar burning feeling inside of his chest, and he doesn’t know if it’s a good one or a bad one.

* * *

 

 

_“Look at me. I won’t kill you; we’re both a kid, and you did nothing wrong._

_I’m actually giving you a chance. Grow up. Get stronger. And when you finally found me, I need you to kill me with your own hands._

_Get your revenge on me. Live.”_

 

He wakes up drenched in sweat, his hair damped to his face disturbingly. There’s a throbbing pain inside his mouth; until he realizes that he unconsciously bit his tongue in his sleep. Fear washes over him, filling his chest with unspeakable darkness. He turns to his side and curls into himself, hugging onto his knees to stop himself from shivering.

It’s been years now, but the nightmare is still there, haunting him, devouring him alive, ripping him to pieces until there’s nothing left of him but an empty shell fueled by rage.

* * *

 

 

Bokuto wasn’t kidding when he said he’d come to the bar _every day_.

He comes the next day. And the next one too. If Akaashi were to be honest, Bokuto’s commitment amazes him a bit.

Bokuto is… what he calls _unexpected._ Akaashi has been changing jobs from time to time, meeting dozens of people along the way, and he can proudly say he gets along with… some of them. So if anything, he’s really good at reading people and observing their behavior. Of course, it comes naturally to him, as he has been living alone for years now and he needs to tell the differences between the people who he can and can’t trust.

While he can clearly see the desire reflected inside of Bokuto’s eyes on him, whatever comes out of his noisy mouth always betrays his expectation.

Akaashi is… a little amused.

 

“You’re running a little late today, Bokuto-san. Your work, I presume?”

“Fwaah,” Bokuto exhales loudly, running his hands through his face. “You’re really sharp aren’t you Keiji.”

Akaashi stares at him with mild amusement. “You’re always dressed so neatly. I wonder what do you do for a living.”

“I’m a – “ Bokuto gulps on the clear, fizzy drink Akaashi served him. He says it’s the bar’s most wanted non-alcoholic beverage, so Bokuto, without any further ado, ordered it naively. He’s just not expecting the drink to be so… sour and bitter. He chokes on it, ever so gracelessly.

Akaashi spares him a concerned look. “A – Are you okay?”

“What is this _thing_?!” Bokuto holds out the glass, face all scrunched up ridiculously. Akaashi tries to suppress a smile forming in his mouth. Somehow, Bokuto’s ever changing comical expressions manage to brighten up his mood and lift up his day. Not that he’d admit it out loud, _God no._

“It’s a mocktail, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi chuckles softly. “If it’s too much for your child-like tongue, I can get you an Orange and Cranberry juice, if you’d like.”

“Oh! Hey hey, you laugh!” Bokuto’s hair perks up in a way that is not logically possible. “That’s the first time I see you laugh like that!”

Akaashi scolds his expression back to normal, with one eyebrow raised. “Really? You make it as if I’m a cold-hearted person to begin with, Bokuto-san.” He turns around to the cabinet, preparing the drink and trying to distract himself from Bokuto.

“You kinda are though,” Bokuto’s comment makes his hand brows twitch in annoyance. “But you’re still pretty damn good-looking and I’m not going to complain.” Bokuto continues.

Akaashi inhales deeply, trying to calm his heart down. “I get that a lot lately.”

As Akaashi turns around to serve him his order, Bokuto shoots him a bewildered look. “What – What do you mean?! Did… Did the other customers hit on you too?!”

“They did.” Akaashi answers with a pleased smile. After almost a week of working here at the bar, his customers seducing him have been a usual occurrence, or so it seems. But it’s not like Akaashi is fine with it or anything. A little disturbed, maybe, but it won’t messes up his works, that’s for sure. Better keep it professional.

Bokuto sighs loudly. Akaashi would be lying if he said he isn’t expecting that kind of reaction.

“But you were the first one.” He continues in a whisper, avoiding eye contact and covering his mouth in a manner that Bokuto finds adorable.

“I… I am?!” Bokuto’s depressed mood seems to vanish completely, replaced by a wide, toothy smile that looks a little cocky.

Akaashi doesn’t really hate that smile, if he was to be honest with himself. “Yes,” He utters. “If you count that as an achievement…”

Bokuto stands up from his stool and leans closer, but before Akaashi can get his thought together, Bokuto hauls the front of his shirt roughly before pulling the boy into a bone-crushing hug, circling his arms around the younger man’s neck.

It lasts for no longer than two seconds before Akaashi peels himself away, almost knocking against the cabinets on his back. He stares at Bokuto wide-eyed, mouth agape. He’s not expecting that. He’s clearly not expecting Bokuto would be _that_ bold; and he thought he’d read the guy pretty well.

So much for his observation skill.

“What are you – “

Bokuto grins wryly, his face beet red and Akaashi knows he’s just as red as him.

“C – Can I call you later?”

Akaashi shakes his head vigorously, trying to shake the aftershock off of his head. “Are you serious? No way in hell,” He answers coldly, though his voice is still quivering a little.

 

But of course, Bokuto being Bokuto, he calls anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

Akaashi is starting to see stars whenever he looks into Bokuto’s eyes. Is it weird?

Maybe it’s because of the poor lightning – or maybe his eyes are just glossy. Yeah. In any case, he finds it hard to bring his gaze away from those eyes. Those round, golden eyes.

He hopes it doesn’t have anything to do with the hug.

“Keiji?”

“Yes?”

“The pink stuff is leaking out.”

Akaashi wills himself to look down at the mess he creates at the bar. His hands are most definitely sweet and sticky now and – oh God he needs to clean the surface fast or –

“Here,” Bokuto straightens up and offers him a handkerchief. “You looked like you were quiet distracted back then.” He teases, wriggling his eyebrows playfully.

Akaashi can feel his stomach flips in humiliation. “Thank you, but I cannot afford to get your hankie dirty,” He mumbles timidly, pushing Bokuto’s hand back. “I’ll um…” He glances at the direction of the back door.

“I’ll be back.”

Bokuto rests his head on his palm and smiles. “Okay~”

 

Inclining against the staff’s bathroom sink, Akaashi curses like he never curses before. The sleeves of his shirt are colored pink and humid – he must apologize to Sugawara later, it’s his after all. No, no, the main issue here is – Bokuto. That guy has been nothing but headache. … _Good_ headache.

Wait – no – what is he thinking?!

He’s not supposed to feel this way; because he knows, better than anyone, that no matter how hard he tries, the two of them could never be together.

“Maybe in another life,” Akaashi reminds himself, slapping his cheeks wet. “Don’t screw this up, Keiji.”

“…Are you okay, Akaashi-san?” Hinata peeks from behind the door, raising his brows. “You’ve been talking with yourself.”

“Ah,” Akaashi nods. “I’ll be right with you.”

 

When Akaashi comes back to the bar, though, Bokuto isn’t there anymore. What’s left of him were an empty glass, a tiny piece of paper with notes in it, and a weird distant feeling, settling inside of Akaashi’s chest.

 

 ---

_I have work to do its so sudden! Sorry though, I really enjoyed talking to you! I’ll make it up to you, I promise._

_^(OvO)^_

 ---

 

Since it’s Sunday, Akaashi only works for half a day, thanks to Hinata and Kageyama working fulltime at weekends. He arrives at the place a little after six in the evening, but he has to check on the new drinks at the storage and clean up the dishes before he could help out at the bar.

It’s almost nine when he finally emerges from the storage room – and to his surprise – Bokuto isn’t there, neither at the bar nor the tables.

Violating their promise now, isn’t he.

“Hey, can I get some beer?”

“I’m on it,” He answers immediately as he rolls his sleeves. At least now he can work in peace without any… unwanted distraction. The night runs smoothly, without any stupid error like yesterday (he thoroughly blames Bokuto for that) and Kageyama and Hinata has been a big help, even with their constant bickering and quarrelling. He’s gradually becoming more familiar with the regulars there, other than Bokuto of course.

There’s something this night, though. Akaashi notices that there are less suited yakuza guys (it’s just his assumption – they might be an investor for all he knows) and it strikes him as weird. Sugawara, well, he notices it too but has been extra quiet since Akaashi arrived.

Akaashi slowly wipes the clear wineglass in his hand, his mind unsettled. Something weird is going on…

Just as he’s lining up the glasses in order at the counter in front of him, the bell on the door clatters, and he instantly looks up. (He’s not sure why he does that. He’s definitely not waiting for someone. No, not at all.)

When the newcomer steps inside, every other patron goes completely quiet, and the room is filled with faint, eerie music. Akaashi too, stiffens as soon as he lays an eye on the guy. It was hard to tell at first glance – because the man’s attire is tarnished in deep, dark red – as if someone sprayed a bucket of paint at him. The stains make their way to his neck and his face, making it hard to identify the stranger by the face but Akaashi knows who he is. Oh how he knows.

“Bo… Bokuto-san?”

“I – Is that blood?” Beside him, Hinata stutters, clutching into the fabric of Kageyama’s shirt. “Is this somekind of stupid joke?!”

“Hell if I know, dumbass! D – Don’t just stand there you!” Kageyama hisses at the smaller boy, swatting his hand away.

Bokuto – who is definitely soaked in blood – pays no heed to them as he makes his way to where Akaashi is standing completely still, and maybe, just a little bit furious. A bunch of questions keep on popping inside of his head, ranging from _where the fuck were you_ to _what the hell are you doing coming inside this peaceful place looking like that_ , but what comes out of his mouth completely betrays his conflicted emotions.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a little short on breath.

Bokuto looks taken aback at the question, but he nods silently, closing the gap between the two of them.

There’s a sharp scent of metal in the air as Akaashi crouches down to retrieve a clean rag and violently rubs Bokuto’s face clean. He’s not even aware that his hands are trembling. Bokuto is about to complain when Akaashi presses the cloth on his mouth and inhales a shaky breath.

“Fuck, you had me…”

“…Worried?” Bokuto finishes for him, catching his wrist and yanks it away.

The dark-haired boy gulps, brows knitted together as he attempts to come up with an answer. There’s still a trace of dried blood at the gap between Bokuto’s eyebrows… Akaashi’s fingers twitch in irritation, wanting to scrub the spot clean.

“You’re not surprised?” Bokuto asks – surprisingly – softly.

“I am.”

“Then, are you scared?”

Akaashi pulls his hand free and continues to clean his friend up. He scrubs the top of his head roughly, wondering _how the hell could there even be a bloodstain on his fucking hair,_

“Keiji?”

“I’m not,” Akaashi finally answers. “…Not really.” He draws back, dropping the blood-stained rag to the floor beside him. Bokuto looks more acceptable now, but maybe not all of him. “You’re drawing attention right now. Why are you here, Bokuto-san?”

“I wanted… to see you.” The grey-haired man admits shyly while rubbing his nape. “And maybe, surprise you a little?”

“If you take this as a prank then it isn’t funny, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto pouts, enlarging his eyes dramatically, trying to pull of Bambi Eyes. Akaashi sighs, but still appreciates his attempt. “I know, I wasn’t expecting your reaction, though – I’m sorry.”

“You could, at least… change your clothes first.” Akaashi flicks Bokuto’s forehead playfully before pulling away. “So, is this thing real or is it just really a prank?” Akaashi crosses his arms coolly, ignoring the weird stares his co-workers and customers are giving him.

“Let me tell you a little secret, Keiji.” Bokuto grins – dangerously – a different kind of feeling from the playful grins he’s been throwing before. He tips closer to Akaashi, voice just above a whisper when he says, “This isn’t my blood.”

Akaashi blinks repeatedly, trying to process the information. “…Okay,” He says slowly. “So does it have to do with that… work of yours?”

A mixed of emotions flash through Bokuto’s eyes, or maybe Akaashi is just seeing things, but Bokuto looks a little… sad. “If you put it that way, well… kinda.”

“Huh,” Akaashi takes a step back, fiddling with his fingers absentmindedly. “I guess, it’s not entirely overwhelming, since you come here every day without a single care in the world.” He stares distantly at the crowd, observing his surroundings. “If there’s anything I learn from this job is that almost the regulars here… are bad news.”

“Or they could be just unlucky businessmen who stumble their way here?” Bokuto supplies, trying to lighten up the mood.

Akaashi finds himself smiling a little. “…Care for a drink?” He offers tentatively.

Bokuto bobs his head. “I’ll just have water for today,” The bartender stares at him worriedly, but he quietly fetches the man a glass of water, nonetheless.

\---

 

“Aren’t you gonna ask me about my job?” Bokuto wriggles his feet excitedly and asks after Akaashi has finished making out a few orders. He looks like he’s in a better mood now, and for some unknown reason, Akaashi feels a little at ease.

“…It’s almost seems like _you_ want _me_ to ask,” he deadpans.

“You don’t think I’m mysterious and cool?!” Bokuto gasps in disbelief.

“I don’t know where you get that idea from but…” Akaashi ends his sentence with a long sigh. He rubs his temple wearily, considering on leaving his job early. What a wild day today is. “Alright, Bokuto-san. I’m assuming you murder people for a living.” He jests. Kind of.

“Ding ding!” Bokuto makes weird noises. “Almost!”

“…I’m not even gonna guess.” Akaashi says, unsmiling. “I’m not sure if that’s even something to be proud of.”

Bokuto seems dumbfounded for a moment before his expression falls. “You’re right.”

Akaashi grinds his teeth. _Good job, Keiji. There goes his irritating mood swings._

“I work for this huge group who owns a fairly large territory around this area,” Bokuto starts when Akaashi thought he wouldn’t talk anymore. “I’m like their …personal janitor? I clean their mess up, and sometimes I do their mess for them, yeah, the likes.”

“I… I’m not sure I follow.”

“In short, I kill people when they need to. And when someone hires me.” Bokuto ends his explanation with a crooked smile.

“So, you’re an assassin.” Akaashi concludes.

“That’s!” Bokuto claps his hands together. “A rather cool way to put it down!”

Akaashi sweeps his gaze to the backgrounds, tuning down his voice a little as he continues. “I’m not sure someone as loud as you can pull off such dangerous work,”

“Rude! I’m a professional!” Bokuto huffs. “I’ve been doing this my whole life, and I’m not exactly the discreet James Bond kind of type, excuse you!”

“First of all, James Bond is a _spy._ I think that’s common knowledge.” Akaashi responds half-heartedly. “And… that explains the bloody get-up then.”

“This?” Bokuto gestures at his suit. “Nah, this is because my target actually fought back. With an axe. I was genuinely surprised, so I do what I gotta do.”

Akaashi squints and grimaces.

“Yeah, that look is totally called for.” Bokuto shrugs.

Akaashi hesitates for a moment before opening his mouth. “Just… how many times have you… done it?” He pauses for a second, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Don’t you feel the slightest tinge of… guilt?”

“Whoa, this is a really heavy topic, Keiji,”

“Answer me.” The boy demands.

Bokuto shoots him a rather nasty glare and exhales in defeat. “The first few times, yeah, I do feel remorse. It was awful, back then.” He slouches forward and rests his chin on his hand. “But as time passes by, it gradually feels… dull. I’m not sure if I’m even feeling anything anymore. As I’ve lost count on how many lives I’ve taken, I think my humanity slowly dissipates with it, too.”

“But you continue to live your life gleefully, don’t you?” Akaashi remarks, sounding distant. “With no sense of regret?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I regretted on a lot of things!” Bokuto straightens up and actually raises his voice, alarming Akaashi and his co-workers. “It’s just that… If I don’t act this way, I’m afraid I’d lose myself.”

“Uh,” Akaashi nervously scratches his cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you mad, Bokuto-san,”

“I’m not mad – It just feels like an interrogation,” The owlish guy supplies, rubbing his neck. “Which is weird,”

“Do you want me to get you another glass of water…?”

“No, that’s okay. Sorry I yelled at you.” Bokuto apologizes profusely, curling his lips into a pout just like a child.

Akaashi crouches down until they’re eye to eye. “You’ve had a tiring day, Bokuto-san. How about you go home for the night, change your disgusting attire, and I’ll treat you a drink tomorrow?” He places a hand on the older male’s shoulder.

Bokuto blushes at the contact, nodding his head briskly. “So, like a date?”

“I don’t date my clients.” Akaashi pats his shoulder lightly, ushering him to leave. “See you tomorrow, Bokuto-san.”

* * *

 

 

“Kageyama told me all about it.” Sugawara says while closing up. He heaves a sigh before turning around, facing his employee. “I’m not trying to pry into your problem but – I’m not even sure where you’re currently standing on anymore, Akaashi.”

Akaashi rubs his palms together anxiously, casting his eyes to the floor. “Honestly, Suga-san, neither do I.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I – I’m sorry but I don’t handle alcohol that well.” Bokuto whines as he shies away from the small glass of red-colored liquid sets in front of him.

“It’s on me, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi pleads, while mentally adding _you fucking toddler._ “Drink up.”

“But – “

“I’m here. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?” Akaashi isn’t one to forces people on drinking some alcoholic beverages, but he thought he’d make an exception this one night. “Might I add that this is the house’s specialty?”

“The last time tastes awful though,”

“Yes, last time, it was my mistake.” Akaashi reasons with him. “But this one is pretty sweet, if you ask me. You won’t even taste the alcohol.”

“Really? What’s it called?”

“Uh… _Broken-Down Golf Cart_.”

“…That doesn’t sound too convincing.” Bokuto frowns, tilting his head to take a better look at the shot.

“Trust me, it tastes just like Cranberry juice… kinda.” Akaashi adds the last part quietly.

Bokuto looks at him and the liquor. After a mild consideration, he suddenly rubs his face with his hands and groans. “Ugh, how can I refuse such offer when you ask so nicely?” 

Akaashi lets a small smile slips past his lips when Bokuto reaches out to grab the glass and empties the drink with a single chug. He scrunches up his nose right after, screwing his eyes shut.

“How was it?” Akaashi bends low and leans closer.

“It was…” Bokuto cracks an eye open. “… Pretty good.”

 ---

 

“How many shots did you force him to take?” Yaku – the employee Sugawara hired just recently – murmurs quietly after Akaashi settled next to him.

“I don’t know… He kept asking for more so I…” Akaashi replies just as quiet, glancing sideway at Bokuto, who is now sagging against the bar counter, his face glowing red.

“He’s really drunk.” Yaku states sternly, if not a little worried.

“I know,” Akaashi sighs. “When he said he couldn’t really handle alcohol well – I didn’t know it was… this bad.”

“Oh,” Yaku gasps, snapping Akaashi’s attention to him. “He threw up.”

“What.”

\--- 

 

“Bokuto-san… Can you stand?” Akaashi approaches Bokuto’s stool tentatively, placing his hand on the taller lad’s shoulder. It’s an hour after closing time, and Akaashi has already changed into his casual clothes. “I’m gonna lock up now. I’ll help you out.”

Bokuto mumbles out incoherent words in a state of daze.

“Bokuto-san?”

“’nt… I can’t stand…” he drones, hands flopping out on either sides. “..elp me, Keiji,”

Akaashi bites his lower lips, considering his options. He could always leave Bokuto here and come back early when he’s sober, but that’s being mean, and with how pitiful Bokuto look right now, he doesn’t have the heart to. So instead, he extents his arms out and help Bokuto stand on his feet.

“Alright, slowly… here you go.” Akaashi says softly, one arm around Bokuto’s shoulder. He starts walking out of the store but it’s hard to keep his balance because of Bokuto’s weight pressing into him, and God he’s really heavy.

He lets go of Bokuto once they’re outside to lock on the doors, but the guy just wouldn’t stay put. He wanders wobbly to the road, murmuring something like, “ _Colt Anaconda… Colt M one-nine-eleven_ …”  before flopping down to the cold, hard ground.

Akaashi clicks his tongue and hastily stuffs the keys into his pocket. “Oh for the love of God.”

Bokuto just remains there, completely content, even when Akaashi keeps on pulling on his shirt to get him to stand up.

“Come on, Bokuto-san. Work with me.” Akaashi groans wearily.

Bokuto turns to lay on his side, looking up at Akaashi with foggy eyes. “Carry me?”

Akaashi wants to yell at him, tell him no, but he swallows everything down and instead exhales loudly. “Alright, it’s partly my fault too, anyway.” So he crouches down, presenting his back to Bokuto. “Just, hurry up and get to it, Bokuto-san.”

 ---

 

Bokuto is heavy and loud, but it’s not completely unpleasant. He nuzzles into Akaashi’s nape, in a very adorable manner, and he keeps on hooting like an owl. Akaashi doesn’t hate owls.

“Where do you live, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi interrupts Bokuto’s chirping once he realizes they’re kind of walking with no apparent direction.

“Meguro station… just, across it.” Bokuto slurs, wriggling his feet happily when Akaashi tightens the hold on his back. “A red apartement, with a… a nice lady living under me and a couple…” He trails off.

“That’s…” Akaashi stops on his track, thinking to himself. “Actually kind of far away.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto agrees innocently. “I usually take th’ cab,”

Akaashi isn’t sure what he fears most – letting a drunken Bokuto into a cab in the middle of the night _or_ letting the poor taxi driver escorts a drunken _Bokuto_ home.

“I live near here.” Akaashi declares simply, obviously not implying any hidden meaning. Nope, not at all.

“I know,” Bokuto answers meekly, pressing his lips to the crown of Akaashi’s head.

“I’ll let you stay for a night,” Akaashi adds softly. “Just this once. Don’t get cocky.”

Bokuto mutters quiet thanks and squeezes Akaashi affectionately. “You’re so nice, Keiji.”

Akaashi hums. “I’m not.”

“N’aww, you’re just embarrassed aren’t ya’”

It takes Akaashi a while to reply, but when he does, his voice sounds cold and distant. “I’m really not.”

Bokuto says nothing in return, and Akaashi thinks that’s where their conversation ends. The rest of the trip is quiet, filled with nothing but the soft sound of night breeze and Akaashi’s heavy footsteps.

 

Akaashi releases Bokuto down on his bed slowly before making his way to the bathroom. He flicks the light on the bathroom on and keeps the door ajar to provide light for his chamber. He can hear Bokuto’s snore from across the room, the tension causing the blood to rise to his cheeks. He convinces himself that he is not, in any way, nervous, but as Bokuto stirs and begins to mumble out words, Akaashi finds himself gripping the edge of the sink anxiously.

When Akaashi comes out of the bathroom – fully dressed in his sleeping attire – Bokuto is lying unresponsively on top of the bed, his head hanging upside down over the edge. Akaashi blinks in the darkness to accustomed himself and climbs to the bed, before awkwardly hovering above the intoxicated man.

“Keiji,” Bokuto murmurs sleepily.

“You’re awake.” Akaashi utters. “Do you want me to get you a glass of water?”

Instead of answering, Bokuto catches Akaashi’s face in his hands and tugs him closer before pressing his lips to the space between Akaashi’s nose and mouth. It’s a weird, misplaced kiss, but Bokuto doesn’t seem to mind. He grins conceitedly as soon as he pulls away.

Akaashi grunts, but he doesn’t budge from where he’s settled. “Why?”

“Isn’t this what you want?” Bokuto says slurry. “I mean, you brought me home, what else should I expect?” Well, he’s not wrong, but he’s not a hundred percent right either.

“You don’t know what I want. We barely know each other.” Akaashi speaks softly, shifting on his bed to rest his arms on either side of Bokuto’s head. They lock eyes with each other, their noses barely touching.

Bokuto giggles and Akaashi can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Well, you’re right, but I know exactly what you want _at the moment._ ”

“You’re so full of yourself,” Akaashi comments before pushing himself up. He climbs out of the bed and exits the room, leaving the poor guy confused.

Minutes later, he comes back with a water bottle in hand.

 

\---

 

“How old are you again?”

The two of them ended up lying on their sides on top of Akaashi’s bed, with their feet tangled messily. Akaashi can see that Bokuto tries so hard to keep his eyes focused on him and not sleeping on the spot. It’s pretty endearing.

“I’m twenty two.” Akaashi replies, his hand finding its way to the hem of his shirt. “What about you, Bokuto-san?”

“Ugh, I should’ve known you’re _that_ young.” Bokuto scrunches up his face.

“If you had known, would you still hit on me then?” Akaashi quips.

“Of course!” The man peeps loudly. “Age is just a number!”

“So mind telling me yours?”

“Geh,” Bokuto crosses his eyes, clearly trying to avoid the question. “I’m… I’m twenty,” He starts off quietly while biting on the soft flesh of his lips. “…I’m twenty nine.”

Akaashi snickers. “That explains the outdated pickup lines, then.”

Bokuto shoots him a look, thoroughly offended. Akaashi smiles persuasively at him.

“This is a pretty weird situation we gotten ourselves into, isn’t it.”

“Do you hate it?” Bokuto caresses Akaashi’s cheeks and tucks a strand hair behind his ear.

“To be honest, Bokuto-san, it’s kind of nice.” The boy admits shyly. “It’s good to finally have a company, and uh, not to be alone anymore.”

This place is so big, it gets kind of eerie sometimes, you know.”

Bokuto stares at him, his wide eyes searching through the darkness. “So you live alone? How about your family?”

“Oh, my parents died when I was ten.” Akaashi says calmly. He chuckles when he sees Bokuto’s exaggerated expression. “But that was in the past, I’m pretty content with myself right now.” He assures.

“I – I didn’t know. Sorry.”

Akaashi gazes at the man before him. “If only an apology could fix everything,” He laughs quietly. “That’s alright, you did say you want to know me better, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto breathes out. “I like you, Keiji.”

Akaashi is taken aback by the sudden boldness. Bokuto confessing out of the blue isn’t anywhere in his scenario, but neither is the wild thrumming of his heart. He isn’t completely sure if he’s even allowed to let his emotions get the best of him, but he doesn’t care. If it’s just one night, it wouldn’t hurt.

“I know, Bokuto-san. You’re kind of implying it since day one.” He chortles.

Bokuto brushes their nose together, but still keeping his distance. “So can we like, kiss now?”

Akaashi feels his heart swells in a way he never knew it’s even possible. “Technically speaking, we already did.” Bokuto is such a sweetie when he’s drunk; who knew.

“No, no, nooo! Tht’ doesn’t count. This time it’ll be a…” Bokuto lisps, stumbling on his words. “… A slow, genuine kiss.”

Bokuto reaches out for his hands, linking their fingers together. Every place where their skin touch gradually grows warmer and he can feel his brain slowly short-circuiting. “…Okay.”

So, they kiss.

Akaashi closes his eyes when he feels Bokuto’s inching closer.

Bokuto tastes bitter, just a bit like liqueur. But his lips are soft and moist, and it feels like he’s back being a seventeen years old kid again (even though Akaashi is not that old,).

Their mouths move in sync with each other, tongues wild and inquisitive.

When they draw back, both are short of breath, panting against each other’s cheeks. The kiss was neither slow nor genuine. It was sloppy and desirous, but Akaashi doesn’t want it any other way. He pulls away from Bokuto’s grip to climb on top of him. Bokuto watches in awe as the younger boy straddles him, his mouth opening and closing in attempt to form comprehensible words.

“What is it Bokuto-san?” Akaashi questions with half-lidded eyes.

Bokuto swallows thickly and shakes his head. That’s the best respond he could manage at the moment.

Akaashi doesn’t waste his time as he swiftly pulls his shirt above his head, leaving him shirtless. He throws the clothing blindly to the floor behind him before kissing Bokuto again, now with renewed vigor. Does Bokuto even have the chance to process everything inside of his head? No he doesn’t. Bokuto thinks like a sloth. He likes it better when Akaashi is the one in charge anyway.

He grabs ahold of Akaashi’s waists and grinds their hips together on impulse, causing Akaashi to emit weird breathy noise and sever the kiss. He’s not sorry, though, because the look Akaashi gives him right after sends a shiver down to his groin.

“I want to fuck you senseless.” Bokuto mutters quietly, resisting the urge to just pounce on Akaashi right here, right now.

Akaashi brushes his hair with his hand. Bokuto thinks he looks absolutely exquisite, and he knows that too, because Bokuto is staring at him with immeasurable desire. “Please do, Bokuto-san.”

 

* * *

 

_“I had discovered that there was something more painful than falling in love with someone who hasn't fallen for you; hurting that person-hurting him and not being able to do anything about it.”_

_― Elizabeth Chandler, Legacy of Lies & Don't Tell_

When Koutarou wakes up to the sight of a Greek God of Sex sleeping next to him, he thinks he’s in love. Keiji might seem to be unapproachable at first, but he’s a real sweetheart when he finally opens up. Sighing contently, he flops on his back and tries to suppress his growing headache with thoughts about Keiji – his... boyfriend? He’s pretty sure the guy never said anything regarding that, so he can’t jump into conclusion that fast. He turns his head slightly, watching the fall and rise of his partner’s chest. Sleeping Keiji is almost heavenly – like an angel. Koutarou remembers the first time he laid his eyes on him. The cold, empty look in his eyes mirrored his, and he thought they were the same.

He was wrong.

Keiji is still a human being. He’s as warm as the sunshine, he’s lovable, and he still have a long way to go. Keiji is _definitely_ not like him. He’s not even sure what he is anymore. Can he still be considered as a human, even after what he had done?

But Keiji, in fact, still has that look of dread in his eyes, like he’d better off dead. Every time Koutarou catches him with that look, he wants to jump on him, _protect_ him. He doesn’t want Keiji to experience his horror. What can he do to keep Keiji from turning into him?

He brushes a strand of dark hair away from the boy’s forehead.

“I’m a murderer,” He whispers faintly. “And yet you’re still here, instead of running away, like any sane person would.”

When Keiji shows no sign of waking up, Koutarou rises from the bed, holding his head with his hands. His vision swims as soon as he sits up, and his dinner threatens to spill right out of him. Is this what hangover feels like? He blindly searches for the water bottle and drains whatever left inside of it straight away.

Apparently, he realizes, throwing up isn’t as disgusting as gutting a dead body.

After cleaning himself up (and putting on whatever is inside Keiji’s wardrobe), he absentmindedly leaves the room and wanders around the house. He walks through a warm, horribly bright hallway that connects to a vacant room with old-looking cabinets neatly glued to the walls. There are empty liquor bottles stacked inside the cabinets, and he recognizes some of the brands. Kuroo and his father like to drink a lot, so he saw some of them back at the main house a few times. Although for someone who lives alone, a place this big just for storage isn’t normal.

He walks around the room, studying the place. It looks like a small shop, and it gives him a weird feeling of déjà vu, like he’s seen this before.

“Bokuto-san…?” A sleepy voice emerges from behind him. “Your phone has been ringing for a few times now…”

“Huh?” Koutarou turns around, facing Keiji – who’s only wearing a baggy shirt with nothing underneath – and swallows. “O – oh, did it wake you up?”

“Yeah.” Akaashi nods. “Who’s Kuroo?” The boy squints his eyes, glaring daggers at Koutarou.

“He’s my boss!” He answers immediately. Keiji only raises an eyebrow skeptically. “No, really! He’s like the next boss of the group and uh – I owe his dad a lot, y’know, they picked me up when I was orphaned, so uh, yeah.”

“That’s an unnecessary explanation.” Keiji says casually, rubbing the sleep off of his eyes. “But, alright.”

“Anyway! Keiji! Is this like, your personal depository or something?”

Keiji blinks. “No, this is my father’s store.” He answers. “Or – it was.”

“Oh. I see.”

After what it feels like a minute of deafening silence, Keiji clears his throat. “So, breakfast…?”

Koutarou perks up instantly, his lips splitting into a wide grin.

They walk to the kitchen, all the way to the back of the house. Keiji was right; the house is _too_ big for someone to be leaving alone. He spots a few empty rooms on his way, but with no sign of life. The kitchen, to his surprise, has the same impression as the store. It feels like he’s been here before, but he can’t recall when. The familiarity of the place terrifies him a bit. He remembers the stove, the misplaced painting hanging on the wall, the flashy table cloth…

“Bokuto-san?” Keiji’s calm and tranquil voice snaps him out of his daze. “Do you like pancake?”

“Of course I do!” Things might be a little bit peculiar, but hey, pancakes!

 

Kuroo won’t stop calling him. He’s not even sure why, it’s fucking ten in the morning. It’s probably about Kenma.

As he walks out of the place, he notices something. There’s a big red plank just above the main door to Keiji’s house. He didn’t see it last night because it was dark and he was positively drunk, but now it’s as if the words are just waiting at the tip of his tongue. He reads the writing on it out loud.

“Akaashi liquor store…”

Something in his mind clicks.

He runs.

 ---

 

“Kuroo!” Koutarou slides open every _shoji_ in the entire house until he finds his friend in one of the room, looking a bit startled.

“What, what?” Kuroo sits up at once, dropping his phone to the _tatami_ floor. Koutarou closes in, kneeling down to his level and grabs his shoulders.

“Akaashi! Do you know someone named Akaashi?!” He shakes the guy violently; his mind is too occupied to register on his disrespectful behaviour towards his _boss_.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Kuroo struggles to break free from the grip, but fails. “Who the fuck is Akaashi? And why didn’t you pick up any of my calls?”

“I had a busy night,” Koutarou replies blatantly. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard the name before, so have you?”

“Wait, wait alright. Chill. If you keep rocking me back and forth it’ll be hard for me to access my brain.”

“Okay.” Koutarou nods obediently, pulling his hands back and places them neatly on his laps.

“Akaashi… huh?” Kuroo taps his chin. “I’m pretty sure dad has an underling named Akaashi but it was back when we were – ah!”

“Huh?” Koutarou leans in with wide eyes.

“It’s the bookkeeper! Your second task!” Kuroo claps his hands together. “I was in high school back then, I don’t remember the details but dad had this bookkeeper named Akaashi… before he was replaced by Iwazaki… I think.”

Koutarou pauses to think.

“I remembered he stole some money… no, a lot of money… or else dad wouldn’t ask you to _assassinate_ him.” Kuroo continues with a frown. “But, that was a long time ago, It’s weird that you brought it up again. What’s wrong, Bokuto?”

Koutaro’s hands shake with tremor. He remembers everything. That night, the sound of rain, the ear splitting scream, the boy… The boy he saw twelve years ago…

It was Keiji.

“Bokuto?”

It almost feels like time has stopped as the gears click into place.

Everything makes sense now.

 

* * *

 

 

_He’s coming closer… coming closer now…_

_After he killed mom and dad, is he going to kill me too?_

_But I didn’t do anything, mom didn’t do anything, dad didn’t do anything._

_Why must they die?_

_Am I going to die too? No, no, no no I don’t want to I need to run away I have to but my legs are –_

“Hey. Didn’t see you there.” The guy squats down in front of him, the darkness making it impossible to illustrate the expression on his face. Akaashi – poor, little Akaashi falls down on his back, his whole body shaking with dread.

“Oh man, I didn’t know they have a kid. Nobody ever tell me anything just because I’m a child.” The guy rubs his hands on his face in irritation. Akaashi breaks down and cries.

“Oh-uh. Shh, Look at me. I won’t kill you; we’re both a kid, and you did nothing wrong.” His parents’ blood is pooling underneath the guy, deep and vivid against the hazy monochrome background.

Akaashi cries louder, shielding his face with his arms.

“I bet you’d want to kill yourself right now, huh. Because that’s what I’d do if I were you.” The boy continues. “But I can’t let you do that. I’m actually giving you a chance. Grow up. Get stronger. And when you finally found me, I need you to kill me with your own hands.”

Akaashi looks up at the word _kill_ , panic rises within him.

“Get your revenge on me. Live.” The guy finishes off miserably, his tone filled with sorrow.  He stands up and turns around before Akaashi could even say anything.

 _No, no, no, no wait. Don’t leave_.

“But I _love_ you.” Akaashi sniffles.

 

He wakes up abruptly with a loud gasp.

He’s having the nightmare again… but this time there’s something odd nagging in his chest.

“I’m okay. It’ll be okay… just a little bit more…” He assures himself, his voice a little shaken. His plan has been sailing smooth lately, and it won’t be long until…

But can he really do it?

It takes him awhile to realize that his bed is empty. A blaring noise of phone ringing startles him, and he reaches out for the phone on top of the nightstand. “Bokuto-san?” He calls, before climbing out of the bed.

* * *

 

 

“My name is Yukie. Yukie Shirofuku. Nice to meet you.”

“She’ll be working full-time with the two of you,” Sugawara explains right before opening time. “I hope you guys get along well.”

Yaku and Akaashi exchange greetings with the new waitress as Sugawara quietly leaves for his office.

“So, anything I should know about while working here?” Yukie begins while folding the sleeve of her uniform. She looks older than Akaashi, with a short reddish-brown hair he’d find cute if he’s not gay already.

“Other than most people here are guilty parties? Not really.” Yaku snorts.

“I know that,” Yukie huffs out. “Would any normal – sane person work in an environment like this, if they didn’t know already?” She paces to her locker – right next to Akaashi’s.

“Well, if any of them start to hit on or touch you without your consent, feel free to tell us directly.” Akaashi says monotonously.

Yukie turns around to him and giggles. “That’s so nice of you, Akaashi-kun! Thank you.”

Akaashi slips on his work attire and begins buttoning up his shirt when suddenly; Yukie lets out a rather impish chuckle. “Well, someone had a rather eventful night,” She whistles, closing her locker and leaving the room without sparing any single a glance to Akaashi.

Akaashi unconsciously reaches out for his neck, trying to hide whatever Bokuto left there last night. Yaku eyes him cynically with a growing smirk on his lips before exiting the room too, snickering to himself.

“… Fuck.” Akaashi looks away and murmurs under his breath, very much aware of his reddening feature.

 ---

 

His day becomes livelier now that he has two people working with him. It’s a different kind of lively from when he’s working with Hinata and Kageyama;  Yaku and Yukie are more sensible and mature and he likes placid mood the two of them created, while the two idiots would only serve to rankle him. The bar is always quiet and warm at this time of the day; sometimes it almost lulls Akaashi to sleep. This time is no different. Yaku and Yukie are chattering softly on the background, instead of yelling and throwing absurd insults at each other.

It’s… kind of peaceful.

Akaashi crosses his arms while slowly, closing his eyes.

When the bell rattles, the conversation behind him stops.

As Akaashi opens his eyes, he’s greeted with the rare sight of Bokuto wearing a casual leather jacket outside of his shirt, and not his usual suit. And what’s more – it’s not even dark yet outside.

“Bokuto-san? Well, this is a surprise.” Akaashi greets him when Bokuto quietly takes a seat just across from where he’s standing. “I thought your _boss_ called you frantically this morning?”

Bokuto is… awfully silent. He keeps biting on his lower lips while nervously fiddling with his hands behind the counter. Akaashi is just not used to a _quiet_ Bokuto.

“Um, Bokuto-san?”

“Akaashi…” The guy in front of him starts. “Just cut it out, alright? All of it.” He finally looks up in hesitation.

“Oh,” Akaashi breathes out emotionlessly. Every piece seems to fall into place faster than he’d expected. “It took you awhile, Bokuto-san.” A surge of emotions wash over him; the ones he’s been building up for the past few years, and the one’s he’s been trying to _conceal_. Now that Bokuto knows everything, he’s not sure what to do. Sure, he’d plan this for a long time, but writing it down and experiencing it firsthand are two different things.

“So… it was all just an… act?”

Akaashi swallows thickly, struggling to keep a blank, emotionless look on his face. Yes, it was supposed to be an act. He hadn’t intended to actually _fell_ for the guy. It was a huge mistake he deeply regretted, but he can’t really say that now. “Yes… it is.” It actually _hurts_ him, saying all these lies. “Are you surprised, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto actually has the audacity to look like he’s in an unspeakable pain.

Akaashi curls his fingers into a fist. _Don’t give me that look._

“And you knew… all along, huh?” Bokuto quavers. Akaashi can hear the agony in his tone and his heart sinks in his chest.

“I’m more surprise you didn’t know already.” He counters grimly. Even though Akaashi never explicitly reveals anything regarding his ploy, but at times he would obliquely imply them. Bokuto is just too slow to realize.

“You must really hate me, don’t you.” Bokuto laughs pathetically into his arm. Now that’s a tricky question.

Akaashi can feel both Yaku and Yukie eyeing him worriedly, but he doesn’t care. “Do you know how _awful_ my life was, after you took my parents away from me?” Akaashi clutches the edge of the counter tightly; the memory he’s trying so hard to dismiss comes crawling back to him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “I lost… everything that day. But I keep holding on to your words, up until this day. Even though you can barely remember any of it.”

“Do you recall what you said to me that night, Bokuto-san?”                  

Bokuto ducks his head, mouth sealed shut.

His breath feels so heavy, Akaashi feels like crying. “You should’ve killed me back then. When you had the chance. Do you regret not doing that now?”

He can hear Yukie shifts behind him; his co-workers are now awfully quiet. A dense tension hangs in the air, and it gets heavier when neither one of them said anything.

The bell rings as another customer walks in, alarming the four of them. Akaashi brings his attention elsewhere when Bokuto replies shakily.

“I might’ve regretted a lot of things in my life – “He swallows. “But letting you live isn’t one of them.”

Akaashi is rendered speechless, unable to retort with anything witty. No, he doesn’t _want_ to.

“Well,” Bokuto stands up, staring at Akaashi with a wry smile. “I always know this day would come. I mean – I’m not going to live forever, I know that.”

“What – “Akaashi lurches forward, inclining against the bar. “Are you running away from me?”

“Nah, the opposite, actually.” Bokuto shurgs. “You already know where I live anyway.”

 

“So I’ll be waiting.”

 

* * *

 

 

The door swings open just as Akaashi grabs on the knob. It’s unlocked.

He shuts the door and steps inside the dimly-lit apartment gingerly. The inside of the place is unexpectedly spacious and neat, just like any normal apartment would look like. The first room he’s in is nearly spotless, with no speck of dust. There’s almost no furniture, though, and no shoes placed on the _genkan_.

There’s a simple microwave on top of a counter inside of the small kitchen, but no stove nor refrigerator in sight. Akaashi lowers his guard a bit and frowns. He wonders how on earth Bokuto survives all this time with barely anything to eat.

The faint hum of TV coming from the other room breaks off his thought. He whips his head to the direction of the sound and quietly makes his way there.

The room is dark, with the TV as the only source of light inside. The door is partly opens so Akaashi peeks inside. Apparently it’s a simple bedroom, with a king-sized bed, a worn-out couch and a small television in it.

Bokuto is nestled lazily on the top of the couch, looking like he had just woken up.

“I honestly think you wouldn’t come.” Bokuto says without looking at his direction. Akaashi tenses up, tightening the grip on his revolver. He hesitates at first before walking inside. “Oh, you even brought a firearm along.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Akaashi snaps. He walks to the center of the room and stops right in front of the television.

Bokuto sighs, sounding tired. “You’re right.” He sits up and stretches his legs. He no longer has this precarious air around him anymore. It’s almost like he just… gives up. Akaashi thought he’d at least put up a little fight.

“Hey… Akaashi,” Bokuto says, when Akaashi finally looks up to meet his eyes. “Do you know I keep dead bodies inside my closet?”

Akaashi visibly pales; his eyes darting around the room warily. Bokuto chuckles.

“I’m just kidding~”

Akaashi scowls at him. “How long are you going to keep that up, Bokuto-san?”

“What, do you think I’d wept for my life?” Bokuto laughs sourly. “Akaashi, I’m pretty much aware of all the… horrible things I’ve done. It haunts me; every seconds of my life, like a walking nightmare. Sometimes I wished I was dead so I can finally get away from everything.”

Akaashi knits his eyebrows, anticipating.

“So that’s why I – of all people – know that I deserve this, more than anything.” Bokuto declares, and with that, Akaashi’s heart drops. He doesn’t need to hear any of this; he doesn’t want to have any reservation.

“Everything would be easier if only you acted more like a… murderer you know.” Akaashi divulges, eyes set on the ground. “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with all of these… niggling feelings.”

Bokuto eyes him quietly.

If Akaashi were to deny his emotions any longer, he feels like he might burst. “If you could turn back time, would you?”

The man before him blinks owlishly before nodding his head and breathes out, “Probably.”

Akaashi sneers. “Do you believe we still have a chance, Bokuto-san?”

“What is this, Akaashi? Are you – “

“I wouldn’t. If… if you didn’t kill me parents that night, then we wouldn’t meet.” He admits. “Do you know how long it takes to finally found you? I’ve experience countless of jobs, just for the sake of getting my hands on you. It took me awhile to realize that I’m blinded with hatred – to someone who I barely even know.”

Bokuto fists his hands and opens his mouth; but whatever he’s about to say seems to be stuck on his throat.

“You might not believe it, but you made me indescribably happy, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi shifts his weight from side to side. “But at the same time, being with you is slowly _killing_ me.”

“Akaashi, I…” Bokuto groans into his hands. “If you want to kill me, then just do it already. I’m not going to stop you.” Akaashi merely shakes his head at that.

“But I’m not here to kill you, Bokuto-san.” He states simply, refusing to meet Bokuto’s eyes. “I can’t kill anyone… see? Even my hands are shaking right now.” He chuckles miserably, lifting his right hand.

“Then what – “

Akaashi cocks the hammer to his revolver, alarming Bokuto – who stiffens in his seat immediately. “I… I’m too in love with you to kill you, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi confesses bitterly with a dry smile. He can’t even stop his hands from trembling, let alone his voice. “You are… definitely not what I expect you to be. I though killers are supposed to be… unsympathetic and cruel but…” He pauses, inhaling a shaky breath.

“Ironically, you’re more of a human then I ever was.” He laughs.

“Th – That’s not true!” Bokuto tries to stand up, but the sudden change in Akaashi’s tone halts him.

“Even so, I still can’t forgive you – Bokuto-san.” Akaashi says in a low voice. “Getting my revenge on you – it’s the only thing that keeps me going. I’m not gonna stop now, not when I finally have you right under my palm.”

Bokuto doesn’t reply; he stays still, looking a little deterred.

“But then what?” Akaashi continues. “Once I’m finish with you, what happens to my life then?”

“No – don’t you dare.” Bokuto hisses and pushes himself up, his eyes widen in horror.

Akaashi raises his hand and presses the gun’s barrel to his temple, his breath short and heavy. “So I thought, instead of killing you with my own hands, I’ll give you a taste of having someone important to you _dead_ in front of your eyes.” His whole body quivers, and it feels like his heart could jump out of his throat in a matter of second. The realization dawns on him; he’s scared. But this is what he wants, isn’t it? So why stop now? Why quit now, when Bokuto looks like he’s about to cry?

“Wait, Keiji – please –“

“Don’t call me that,” Akaashi exhales. “Please.” _Or else I’ll have a change of mind._ He screws his eyes shut and makes up his mind.

“Oh hell no – “

 

Akaashi pulls the trigger.

 

_“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?”_

_― James Patterson, The Angel Experiment_

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Acute by Kurousa-P and The Pretty Reckless' Cold Blooded.
> 
> how come this thing is so fucking _long_ but still looks rushed?!  
>  I'm crying this is awful forgive me


End file.
